


Glitter and Garbage

by autonecro



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: Implied Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-19
Updated: 2009-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autonecro/pseuds/autonecro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavi is not pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glitter and Garbage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [livejournal user cassiejo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=livejournal+user+cassiejo).



> drabbley thing written for a drabblethon

Paviche was not pleased. No, not at all...  
  
As things had turned out, he'd discovered that the reason behind his Carmela abandoning his bed all those nights ago had to do with this piece of trash she'd found. Some grave robber. Some maggot.  
  
One leg was crossed over the other, Pavi sat, seething. Very deliberately, very slowly, he removed his kid leather gloves, setting them aside on the desk beside his chair. His characteristic grin was nowhere to be found, and his eyes held all the warmth of a snowdrift.  
  
He could not bear such displeasure.  
  
 He stood and strode to the closet of the small rented room and peeled himself out of the ornate vest and white button up he wore. Now there was just a tank top. He typically looked very unthreatening in his gilded clothing, and he knew this very well. With as little on as he now wore, Pavi was decidedly more intimidating. Muscles that weren't obvious when he wore more rippled as he stretched his arms over his head in preparation for a fight before he walked outside into the dark, stinking alley.  
  
...  
  
"That's all she wrote," Graverobber rumbled, dusting his hands, to signal to the rest of the crowed hanging around that he was done for the day. With a flourish and a bow, he shooed them away. Once all the z junkies and scalpel sluts had filtered out of his alley, he sat down on a nearby crate, and pulled out the little bag with the string closure-- he refused to call it a purse-- that held his money. Gold doesn't count itself, after all.  
  
When he heard the boot clad feet stomping toward him, he pocketed all of it halfway through the count, and stood, noticing first a pair of shiny black pants, and the sleeveless shirt. The first thought in his mind, was ' _another junkie_.' While he opened his mouth to tell this glittery piece of crap he was sold out, once Graves had taken all of the other man in, what came out was, "Fuck."  
  
For the first time tonight, Paviche grinned, showing off his perfect, bright white teeth. Surely he was recognizable, even if he was not dressed as meticulously as usual. One does not wear his finest to deal with garbage, and everyone knew the Pavi. Once close enough to the grave robber who foolishly stood his ground, Pavi reached up and tangled his hand in the the long brunet hair, and gently pulled the taller man's head down, closer to his. "My sister...

I, ah... I know what it is that you do to her." Pavi's voice was dripping with congeniality, as well as underlying threat. "About this, I am no happier than my Papa would be, did he know the things I know."

A like poisoned honey.  
  
The implications were not lost on Graves. He was a clever man. He swallowed very carefully, and tried to ignore the sinking feeling he felt in his chest. "What do you want?"  
  
Paviche's pink tongue snaked from between his ruined lips, and he licked Graverobber's mouth slowly. The long haired street peddler jerked back, eyes wide.  
  
"I want you to give the Pavi," he murmured quietly, melodically, "a _very_ good reason not to turn you in."


End file.
